“I don’t want a Rhodes,” Sean said. “I want a major league contract.”
“You can’t get that on the internet, either. I’ll try to get home early tonight. Lock the doors, please.”
Then he went back to the pub. He’d been gone sixty-eight minutes. The dinner hour was in full swing, happy hour over, kitchen, bar and dining room staff sprinting around. The next two hours flew, then the place began to thin out. From eight to ten there were plenty of customers but it was manageable. Sid left at nine but before she left she asked if the boys needed anything. “Want me to stop by and check homework or anything?”
“Nah, get home. I know Cody’s waiting up.”
“Thanks. We’re going up to Boulder to look at rentals on Saturday.”
“May the force be with you,” he said.
At 10:15 p.m. he put the money and charge receipts in the safe and left the place in the capable hands of the assistant manager. He drove the three-quarters of a mile, feeling guilty. He should be walking, but he was on his feet all day, not to mention lifting crates of everything from lettuce to liquor.
He didn’t belong to a gym. He didn’t need to go any more than a farmer needed to.
Finn’s car was in the drive. When Rob walked in, he couldn’t believe how relieved he was to see Finn at the kitchen table, bent over his laptop, a yellow pad filled with notes on the table beside the computer. Maybe things were okay, normalizing. He put a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“Finals?” Rob asked.
“No,” Finn said. “Research.”
“What are you researching?”
“Meningioma. Glioblastoma,” Finn said, turning the computer screen toward Rob. There was a drawing of a brain, a growth in the brain. And a lot of text. “That’s what it is. A brain tumor. They’re just not sure exactly what kind yet.”
When you arise in the morning, think of
what a precious privilege it is to be alive—to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love.
—Marcus Aurelius
7
“I WANT YOU to think about taking someone else to prom,” Maia said. “I can’t go. I want to but it would be crazy—things are wrong in my head and anything could happen.”
“I’m not taking anyone else,” Finn said. “I wasn’t even that interested in prom until we got together. What’s happening next?”
Finn and Maia sat on her patio on a pair of lounge chairs. He wore a hoodie and she was wrapped in the throw from the sofa. Under the circumstances, her parents were just freaked out enough to have no problem with her being totally alone with a boyfriend and the two of them wrapped around each other in the dark.
“Next, we’re having consultations with a bunch of doctors. They’re going to talk about treatment options—everything from medicines and radiation that might shrink the tumor, to surgery. More tests will probably show exactly what kind of tumor and whether or not it’s possible to get it out. They’re going to tell me about all the options, the pros and cons, their recommendations, all the details. We’re going to more than one hospital. Out of state, too.”
“Are you scared?”
She sighed. “So scared,” she whispered.
“I’ll be with you the whole way,” he said.
“I hate for you to go through all of it.”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re pretty important to me.”
“I could end up bald, you know,” she said.
He almost laughed. As if bald was the worst case. “You won’t be bald forever. If you lose your hair, it’ll grow back. If you go bald, I’ll shave my head.”
“How are you so wonderful?”
“I’m not the wonderful one,” he said. “You’re the one going through it. You’re not going through it alone, that’s all. You have me but you have lots of friends. And, Maia, I’m really proud of you. You’re so brave.”
“Doesn’t it just figure?” she said. “I find a guy I love and it turns out I have a brain tumor. Unbelievable.”
“Yeah, what some girls will do for attention,” he said, pulling her close. “This is going to get behind us, then we’re going to have some fun, like we deserve.”
“My mom cries at night,” she said. “I can hear her.”
“She’s scared, too,” he said.
“There are no more birth control pills, Finn.”
“Yeah, I know. Don’t think about it. Like I said—later.”
“Are you scared?” she asked him.
“No,” he lied. “We’re going to get through it with a positive attitude. We’re going to believe this is just a test of how strong we are.”
“I don’t feel that strong. I don’t want to die,” she said softly, then she began to cry and he held her for a long time.
He was only eight when his mother died. Looking back on it, it seemed death had taken her quickly but he knew it had actually been slow. His grandparents came to stay with them; his father slept in a chair at the hospital every night. His grandparents took turns spending hours during the day with her. Once she was diagnosed, Finn and Sean couldn’t visit her much. She died in the middle of the night from a heart attack. His dad had been with her but Finn didn’t get to say goodbye. It would always hurt but his dad had done everything to make sure he and Sean were okay.
“Lean on me,” he said. “I’ll try my best to be your strength.”
“I cry a lot,” she said.
“That’s okay,” he said. No need to tell her what he did deep in the night when no one was looking. He wondered if his dad could hear him cry like a baby.
* * *
Sunday afternoons at the Crossing tended to be a little on the busy side while campers were settling up, packing, closing up the campsites, filling their coolers for the last time to take on the trek home. By four or so, most of those who were leaving had gone and things were usually calm and quiet. Those campers who were staying on past the weekend were settled at their campsites, cook fires and campfires stoked.
Sully flipped the sign on the door to Closed and pulled his chicken off the grill. He carried it across the yard to the house. In the kitchen, Helen was putting the final touches on a salad. “Perfect timing,” she said. “I just have to pull out the potatoes and we’re ready to go.”
“Are we eating in or out?” he asked.
“We’re going to dish up in here and carry our plates outside. I put everything we need on the table out there.”
“Did you wipe it off?” he asked.
“Yes, Mr. Sullivan,” she said. “Did you think I’d feed you at a dirty table?”
“Not likely. I was going to wipe it off if you hadn’t done it yet.”
Helen had called and invited herself to dinner. She’d also shopped for the meal and brought it along. She’d purchased a new car the day before and was able to get around much more easily, not inconveniencing Leigh. While she did a little afternoon writing on his porch, the chicken was marinating. Leigh had invited Rob to dinner and Helen thought it might be a good idea to leave them alone for the evening.
Sully filled up his plate and carried it to the porch. There was a fat candle lit on the table and utensils wrapped in napkins. Also, some wildflowers in a mason jar. These little female touches worked on Sully. He was as close to happy as he ever got.
“God bless Rob Shandon,” Sully said as Helen was taking her seat.
She laughed. “I don’t know what she’s cooking for him but I’m willing to bet we’re making out better. Leigh has many talents but cooking isn’t one of them.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“I was afraid to,” she said. “I thought if I knew I might be tempted to stay and help her with dinner. But it’s probably better this way.”
“Any news on the girl? Finn’s girl?”
“Rob has seen her and says it’s kind of hard to believe anything is wrong. Rob told Leigh she looks great. She’ll be seeing doctors the next couple of weeks and maybe they’ll have some answers, some kind of plan. Poor thing has a time bomb in her head, I think. And the kids are inseparable, which is how Rob got a kitchen pass to have dinner with Leigh.”
“Alone,” Sully added. He scooped a forkful of potatoes into his mouth. They’d been sautéed in olive oil, with a diced onion and some sliced peppers, as well. Nothing fancy. But he said, “Hells bells, you can certainly cook just fine.”
“Simple things,” she said. “I hope you aren’t tired of my company anytime soon. I can’t wait to pull dinner out of that garden.”
“I’ll mind my manners in that case,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to be disappointed.”
“I bet you get raided all the time,” she said, chewing on her salad.
“All the time,” he said. “Maggie and Cal, Dakota and Sid, Connie and Sierra. To be fair, they have all helped in the garden at one time or another. The only reason Frank and Enid don’t help themselves is on account of he’s a rancher, mostly retired now, and he and his boys have a bigger garden. If this family keeps growing, I’m going to have to expand. I used to put surplus out for hikers. They don’t get enough fresh fruits and vegetables on the trail. You can’t carry things that spoil.”
“I’ve been enjoying hearing some of their tales so much I’m thinking of putting a murder on the trail,” she said. “By the way, I brought you a book. Only because you said you were interested. You don’t have to read it, and if you do, you don’t have to like it. I will never ask.”
“Of course I’ll read it,” he said. “I admit, I’m a little afraid. You’re such a nice lady it’s hard to think about you spending your days contemplating murder.”
“I’ve never actually killed anyone,” she said. “I’ve come close a time or two...”